


The Family You Choose

by eerian_sadow



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Character Death, Found Family, Gen, bring all your tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-26
Updated: 2008-07-26
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: It should have surprised him more than it did that two warriors from two drastically different cultures could be so very similar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bunny: [ 39\. Sunstreaker spent lots of time at one particular carwash. He’s even made a friend. The old man who runs it. He doesn’t know how to deal when the old man eventually dies of old age. Everyone thinks it’s just because he lost his favourite carwash, but Sunstreaker is genuinely upset about losing his friend.](http://community.livejournal.com/tf_bunny_farm/25906.html#cutid1)  
> 

No matter what happened between this moment and his finally getting to go back home, nothing and no one was ever going to convince Sunstreaker to drive into the city down an unpaved road after a rainstorm again. The dust from the dirt road he was forced to take was bad enough, but the rainstorm the night before had made an already bad situation unbearable.

He had mud in places he was pretty sure he had never even managed to have cleaning solvents in.

He couldn’t think of many things worse than this particularly Earth-like torture. In fact, at this moment, he couldn’t think of anything worse. Except being painted red. Or having his headlights broken out. Or having his clear-coat crack. Or…all right, there were worse things, but he wasn’t dealing with them right now.

The yellow Twin had radioed back to base, trying to wheedle his way into coming back and hitting the wash racks, but Prowl would have none of it. He had been politely—and sternly—told that he would not be allowed back inside the _Ark_ until he had returned from the city with the parts that Ratchet and Wheeljack had requested. If the mud was that bad, Prowl had told him with absolutely no sympathy, then he would simply have to find a carwash along the way to deal with the problem.

Prowl was an insensitive aft.

But Sunstreaker also knew that the tactician would make good on his threat to lock him out if he tried to go back home without Ratchet and Wheeljack’s parts. So he continued down the road in abject misery.

If he had tear ducts, Sunstreaker would have wept when he saw the carwash at the edge of the city. It was easily visible from the dirt road he had been traveling down, and he turned off toward it immediately. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he had seen on the entire planet.

As he pulled into the carwash, Sunstreaker realized that it was incredibly small—only big enough for two cars or a large truck at a time—and he wondered how they got any business. Despite the size, though, he wouldn’t have traded it for anything—not even that batch of high grade Sideswipe swore he was decanting later this afternoon. He rolled to a stop next to the small attendant’s station at the edge of the concrete and honked his horn cautiously.

Not every Human in the city was glad to see an Autobot stop by their place of business.

The Autobot warrior sat waiting outside the attendant’s station long enough that he began to wonder if the place was actually open. Then, after a little over five minutes, a frail looking older Human stepped outside. Sunstreaker knew he couldn’t really judge Human ages accurately, but this one looked far too old and broken down to be running a full service car wash by himself.

The Human looked him over carefully and then turned his gaze down the street. “Now what kind of punk kid would leave a fine piece of machinery like this just sitting here with the engine running?”

Sunny couldn’t decide if he was insulted by the implication that a punk kid would be driving him or flattered by being called a fine piece of machinery. He did love a Human who could appreciate good looks. “No punk kids, sir,” he said carefully, deciding to be flattered.  
  
The man turned a surprised gaze back to Sunstreaker. “Did I just hear you say something?”

“You did. I said that there weren’t any punk kids. I brought myself here.” The yellow Twin hoped he wasn’t about to start a panic—or get himself into more trouble with Prowl.

The human gave a good natured laugh. “Five years you Transformers have been around and I still can’t get used to it.”

Inwardly, Sunny winced. He hated being called a Transformer. “We prefer to be called Cybertronians.”

“Sorry, my mistake.” The Human still seemed to be in good mood, despite the correction. “You ain’t one of those Decepticons are you? Cause I don’t want their kind around my business.”

If he could have, the Autobot would have breathed a sigh of relief. “No, I’m Autobot Sunstreaker. Which you might have figured out if I wasn’t covered in mud.”

“I might have known you were an Autobot,” the Human agreed. “But I’m not terribly good with names. Mine’s Thomas, by the way. It’s good to meet you, Sunstreaker.”

Sunny didn’t quite know what to say to Thomas’ matter of fact statements. With all the bad press they had gotten lately, he would have expected animosity not the kind of acceptance that implied a normal occurrence. “It’s, um…it’s good to meet you, too. And I don’t mean to impose, but I need—“

“A good wash down. And probably a good buffing and waxing. Those back roads y’all use all the time are hard on paint.” Thomas was already making his way slowly to the wash racks. “Well, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sunstreaker was delighted with the thought of a good waxing along with a wash. He rolled along behind the Human in a much better mood than he had entered the car wash with.

Thomas may have been old and slow, but his hands were steady and gentle as he rubbed cleaning solution into Sunstreaker’s sides. The Autobot warrior couldn’t even feel the mud shifting as the old Human worked. He couldn’t remember having a cleaning this relaxing—not even on Cybertron.

“So what do you do?” Thomas asked while he worked. “When you’re not being a soldier, I mean.”

Sunny was quiet for a moment. He didn’t talk about his art with anyone other than his brother and occasionally Mirage; it wasn’t an entirely comfortable subject. “I’m an artist,” he finally said quickly. “I paint.”

“Huh. I took up painting after the war myself,” Thomas replied. “Small world, isn’t it?”

Sunstreaker was surprised to find himself excited by the fact that the Human painted. He’d never met a Human artist before. “Smaller than most. But it’s a nice one.”

“So tell me about your work,” the old man said. “I never get to talk to other artists anymore.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Where you off to, Sunny?”

The yellow Twin stopped at the sound of Jazz’s voice. “Don’t call me Sunny.”

“Sorry. I forget.” The saboteur grinned insincerely. “So, where you off to? It’s not like you to leave right after patrol.”

“It’s not your business, Jazz.” Sunstreaker did his best to keep his voice calm.

“I know,” Jazz replied. “You can do whatever you want in your off time. But you’ve been gone so much lately that mechs are talking. I don’t want to be helping Prowl toss you in the brig later, if you’re up to something that could get you into trouble.”

Sunstreaker almost felt bad. He knew the other Autobots didn’t really like him; there were probably rumors that he was meeting with a Decepticon or something equally nasty floating around. Jazz and Ratchet were often asked to intervene on the Twins’ behalf when the rumors were particularly bad. “I’ve been meeting a friend. In town. A _Human_ friend.”

Jazz held his hands up in front of him in a defensive gesture. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Prowl asked me to step in before someone said something and things got ugly.”

The yellow warrior had to admit—if only to himself—that Jazz and Prowl were right. Things did tend to get ugly when someone—usually Cliffjumper—said something that made him mad. The last time the red minibot had mouthed off to him, Cliffjumper had spent two days in medical and he, Sideswipe and Bluestreak had spent a week in the brig.

But nothing he said would ever make everyone else believe him. He’d have to have proof. “Look, do you want to come meet him? They’ll believe you if you say I’m meeting some old man in town.”

“All right,” Jazz said. The saboteur’s expression clearly said that he hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

Sometimes Sunstreaker hated that the Autobots didn’t trust him. But he supposed it was his own fault.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Thomas was sitting outside the carwash in an old folding chair when they pulled up. He looked so much like the tired, frail old man he often called himself that Sunstreaker felt almost sick. He didn’t want to think about the Human dying.

His friend’s death was inevitable, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with the reminders.

“Sunny, you brought a friend.” Thomas gave him a weak smile. “Didn’t think you had any of those.”

“I have you, don’t I?” Sunstreaker transformed back into his bipedal mode and sat down next to the old human. “This is Jazz. Jazz, Thomas.”

Jazz followed Sunstreaker’s example and transformed as well. He gave the human a grin. “Nice to meet ya.”

“I hope you didn’t come for a wash,” Thomas replied with a smile that was slightly more real than his first had been. “I’m not sure I’m up to even one of you today.”

“Just wanted to meet you,” Jazz told him. “We’ve all been wanting to thank whoever was keeping Sunny away from the base.”

The Human laughed. Both mechs watched him with concern as the laugh disintegrated into a coughing fit. “He’s a pain in the ass peacock,” Thomas agreed when he could speak again. “But we understand each other.”

Sunstreaker wished he knew what thoughts were going through Jazz’s processor, but even if he could make himself look away from his Human friend, he wouldn’t be able to read the saboteur’s expression through his visor. He was more worried about Thomas than Jazz’s perceptions, though. The Human hadn’t sounded nearly so bad last week when he had visited, but today he could actually hear the air wheezing in and out of his lungs. He was pretty sure that sixty-seven wasn’t old enough to be the only reason a Human had physical break downs.

But he couldn’t be sure without asking someone.

“Yeah, we understand each other,” Sunny agreed. “We’re both crazy artists.”

The yellow Twin waited for Jazz to say something, but the saboteur let the statement go. Instead, he said, “I’ll let you two do whatever it is you do. I have a friend of my own to drop in on before I head back.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Jazz,” Thomas said as Jazz stood up. “We’re always happy to have any of the Autobots around here.”

“I’ll remember,” Jazz said. “See you back at the base, Sunny.”

“Don’t call me Sunny,” the warrior finally remembered to protest as the saboteur transformed back into his alt mode.

 _I’ll take care of everyone at the_ Ark, Jazz sent to him over the private comm as he drove away.

 _Thanks,_ Sunstreaker replied. “Hey, I brought those sketches I promised.” He turned back to Thomas, determined to ignore the Human’s health the same way the old man was.

If Thomas wasn’t worried, he shouldn’t be either. Right?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sunstreaker paced worriedly outside the hospital as he waited for news about his friend. He had watched Thomas’ health decline for the last two years, and today it had finally culminated in the old man collapsing a few minutes after he had arrived at the carwash today. He had picked up the Human and run with him to the hospital, but the doctors hadn’t been back to tell him anything since Thomas had been taken inside.

He was so worried that he almost radioed Blaster to see if he could spare a cassette to send inside for a status report.

Knowing his pacing wasn’t doing any good—and was creating a traffic hazard for the humans coming to the emergency room—Sunstreaker sat down and leaned against the building. He pulled his knees up and rested his forehead on them, wishing he could think about anything except how close he was to losing the best friend he had.

“Dad didn’t tell you he had cancer, did he?” The voice surprised him, but the yellow Twin recognized it as Thomas’ daughter Karen.

Sunstreaker looked up at her. “No, he didn’t.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He didn’t like to talk about it.” Karen placed a comforting hand on Sunny’s leg. “None of us liked to talk about it, but one of us should have told you when we realized how close the two of you had become. I’m sorry.”

“He’s dying, isn’t he?” Sunstreaker didn’t want to ask the question—didn’t want to know the answer—but he couldn’t leave himself hanging either.

“Probably. He’s had a few bouts like this before, but he was so weak this time that it doesn’t look good.” Karen looked like she was a ready to be overwhelmed with grief as he was.

Sunstreaker put his head back on his knees, not willing to let his friend’s daughter see his sadness. “Thank you for telling me. No one else has bothered to come out and tell me what was going on.”

“They aren’t telling us, either. Adam is in there right now, trying to get a straight answer about Dad’s status, but no one seems to know what’s going on.” Karen sat down next to him and leaned against his side. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to comfort him or herself. “We’ll know more once Dad’s doctor gets here. He’ll give it to us straight.”

Sunstreaker didn’t know how to respond to that, so he cupped a hand around the Human woman and held her close. They waited like that until her brother came out to tell them Thomas was gone.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The other Autobots made jokes at his sorrow. They assumed that he was distraught over the loss of his carwash, for neither Karen nor Adam had time in their busy lives to keep it running. They assumed he was moping because he would never have as beautiful a detailing job as Thomas was capable of giving again. They assumed he was simply being the arrogant, vain peacock he had let them all believe he was.

What hurt the most was that Bluestreak and Sideswipe believed it too.

He wanted to blame Jazz for everyone’s misplaced belief and his lack of comfort, but he couldn’t. Not really. Jazz had simply told everyone something they would believe to keep them off his back and him out of the brig. It was not Jazz’s fault; it was his own.

He was doing his best to ignore the jibes of his faction mates, but if he heard “Primus, Sunny, it was just a _car wash_ ” or its variations one more time, he might snap. He was sad, he was hurting, and they were not making things any better.

“Geeze, Sunny,” Cliffjumper said as he sat down on the other side of the rec room with his own friends, “It’s not like Bluestreak won’t help you clean up. You really need to get over this.”

“All of you stop this!” Sunstreaker hadn’t known Carly was in the room. He looked at the Human woman in surprise. “Can’t you see that Sunstreaker is really hurting about something? You’re all acting like it's some big joke or like he doesn’t really have feelings! But he’s in pain because _someone has died_! You all call yourselves Autobots; act like it and stop making fun of him!”

He watched her in surprise as she left Ironhide’s company and walked over to him. “Do you want me to go to the funeral with you?”

Oh, Primus. He hadn’t thought about going to the funeral. But Karen would probably want him there. And Adam’s kids would want him there. But he wasn’t sure he could be there when the put Thomas into the ground the way humans interred their dead.

“It helps, sometimes, to have a friend with you,” Carly added.

Sunstreaker had never thought that she might consider him her friend. It was humbling. Almost as humbling as being Thomas’ friend had been. “Thank you,” he finally said. “It’s the day after tomorrow. At three. We had to wait on Adam’s wife to get back from a business trip she couldn’t cut short.”

The rec room fell silent when he had mentioned Thomas’ son. They must have been shocked that he actually knew a Human’s name. That made him feel worse than his friend’s death had.

Had he really been that shallow? Yes, he had.

“Will you tell me about your friend?” Carly asked after a moment of letting the silence linger. “He must have been someone special.”

“He was,” Sunstreaker replied in a shaky voice. “He was a warrior and an artist. Like me.”

He knew the entire rec room was listening, but he discovered that he wanted them to. He wasn’t going to let them believe he was nothing but a vain, sparkless bastard any more.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sideswipe, Bluestreak and Jazz had come with him to the funeral too. When they had pulled up, he had seen something almost invisible leave Karen’s features. He almost thought some of her sadness had lifted just because he was there.

He knew that, even if his first friend in this closely knit family of humans was gone, he would never be able to turn his back on them. Thomas’ children and their families were as much his friends, in different ways, as Thomas himself had been.

Adam’s three children ran to him as soon as he transformed. He gathered them all up and held them close, grateful that his hands were large enough to do so; all three of them needed him as much as he needed them. As he held the children Bluestreak wrapped an arm around Sunstreaker and held him, giving him more comfort than he thought such a simple act could convey.

“I’m sorry, Sunny,” the younger mech said. Sunstreaker knew he wasn’t just referring to the loss of his friend.

Carly moved to stand next to his ankle and Sideswipe put on hand on his back, just above Bluestreak’s arm. Jazz stood close enough that his presence provided some comfort, but didn’t intrude on their moment. They stood together like that for the entire ceremony. When the chaplain was finished speaking and they had lowered Thomas into the neatly dug hole in the ground, Adam walked over to their cluster.

“Sunstreaker, thank you for everything you did for my Dad. He may not have said anything, but we could all tell that you made these last two years the happiest he’s ever had.” Adam extended the flag that had graced Thomas’ coffin to him. “Karen and I want you to have his flag. Mom would have wanted his best friend to have something to remember him by.”

Sunstreaker didn’t argue that he didn’t need something to remember Thomas by, though he didn’t. He recognized the gesture of respect for what it was. Carefully he shifted the children to one arm and reached down to take the flag. “He made these last two years the best I can remember, too.”

Despite his grief, Adam smiled. “You won’t be a stranger, right? We all love you.”

Those four words meant more to Sunstreaker than anything he could remember anyone ever saying to him. “I won’t.”  



End file.
